Juney

She makes with unleavened grace, a beaten vow, you might as well escape, furious i agree, we inhabit some other space now, my attic room a dream, icon to her blessed reign, go on she says go, sick of my tired entrails, it's not so easy, avoiding a bitter row, what seemed a good scene, always now in utter disgrace, she works like a trowel, about our separation, full of doubt and migraine, is this what we know, her eyes hesitate, stuff that no one shows.